


No Happy Ends

by queenvidal



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst and Feels, Betrayal, Break Up, Depression, Drama, F/M, Treason
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2019-11-01 12:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17867591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenvidal/pseuds/queenvidal
Summary: It's one thing to lose your family to a war and the love of your life to another woman but being forced to choose between you feelings for him or for your home is a different story.





	1. Chapter 1

Sylvia doesn't know what to do, scream, cry or stap the woman who is sitting in the other corner of the room.

 

Who does she think she is? With her brown eyes and short brown hair, she's not even a true Nord, not like her with her steel blue eyes and gold, almost white waist long locks.

 

Sylvia sighs, who is she kidding? Freja is beautiful, young, well educated and part in the high ranks of the noble society of Skyrim, everyone should dream of being wed to her.

 

But she will not marry anyone, she will marry Ulfric and become the new High Queen once the war is won.

 

If Sylvia is honest to herself she's just searching for reasons to hate her. They once were friends even, but the betrothal changed that, it changed everything for Sylvia.

 

Envy is eating her up. With the fall of her house during the uprising of the Stormcloaks she fell down the ranks of Skyrims aristocracy. She's still a member of the high society, yes, but being the last one of a fallen house will make it impossible for her to get back to the top.

 

It makes it impossible for her to marry the man she loves. A shiver runs down Sylvias spine. Her Ulfric will not marry her. Everyone knows the two of them are involved, for years now, yet she's not the bright smiling fiance who is sitting next to him.

 

It's not her engagement party, it's Frejas. Sylvia wonders if it troubles the future queen that the mistress of the Jarl was invited, Freja didn't even glance in her direction.

 

Not that Sylvia wishes to speak with the brunette, but she can't help to feel kind of satisfied that Freja knows she's just a means to an end.

 

Sylvia even manages to smile at that thought, her first real smile since she learned about the betrothal.

 

But her smile dies instantly when Ulfric takes Frejas hand and brushes his thumb over her knuckles. Sylvia feels sick, that's enough. She stands up from her chair and leaves the hall to find her room.

 

The door of her bedroom slams shut behind her. Hot tears are running down her face as she sinks down to the floor.

 

She can't suppress her emotions any more, her hands are shaking in anger, in rage. Her whole life is falling apart and there is nothing she can do about it.

 

When there are no more tears left to shed and with her breath returning to normal again she stands up from the ground.

 

Sylvia makes quick work of her dress and tosses it together with the jewelry to the floor. She quickly puts her nightgown on and lays down on her bed. It takes time for her spinning mind to finally find peace and let her fall asleep.

 

She wakes up to the shifting of her bed, she doesn't need to open her eyes to know who it is. “Wrong bed.” She whispers but she doesn't receive a reply.

 

Instead the weight behind her shifts again and comes closer to her, she can feel his hand on her shoulder, trying to get her to turn around but she doesn't move. “Wrong. Bed.” She repeats with a harsher voice.

 

“Sylvy, please. Look at me.”

 

She bites her cheeks as she slowly turns around to face Ulfric. His eyes are filled with emotion, it makes her want to cry again.

 

“Sylvy, you know there will be only you for me.”

 

Is he kidding? He knows today's festivities were for him and his fiance, right?

 

His mistress bites her tongue to keep herself from blurring out ill-considered things.

 

Her silence stare hurts him, he lays down on her bed and hugs her to him. She doesn't resist, she snuggles closer to him when he rests his head above hers. “I love you and only you.”

 

“You'll have to love her someday.” she mumbles against his chest. “And then she'll bear your child, your heir while I'll be left behind, unmarried, childless, nothing more than a bloody mistress.”

 

Ulfric hugs her tighter to him. He's also unhappy with how things went. The Jarl intended to marry Sylvia, he even talked to her parents about it but when her house's fallen it took their common future with it.

 

“You know.” He starts. “It doesn't have to be this way, you could marry, too. Become a good wife and mother.”

 

“There was no one before you, there will be no one after you.” she moves her head to look up at him. “Could you really stand the thought of me being touched by someone other than you?”

 

He tilts his head down to look into her eyes, only now he realizes that she had cried. Her blue eyes are still slightly red and puffy.

 

Ulfrics heart clenches at the thought of his love crying alone in her room while he had to act like he was happy about his engagement with a woman he barely knows.

 

He rests his hand on her cheek and caresses her cheekbone with his thumb. “No, I could not.” He finally replies.

 

She is his, she belongs to him and only him. But denying her the life she's always dreamed to have one day would be cruel. He's selfish, but not cruel, not to her.

 

He kisses her on her temple. “I only want you to be happy, Sylvy.”

 

“Don't marry her then.”

 

By Talos, how much he'd love to fulfill her wish.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

The sun is setting when Sylvia arrives in the camp of the Stormcloaks. Smiling from ear to ear she jumps down her horse. 

 

“Ah, Stormblade!” She hears Frorkmar Banner-Torn greet her. “Finally. We thought you went missing.”

 

“Ouch, Frorkmar, do you really think so little of me?” 

 

He probably does, many assume she only climbed the ranks of the soldiers so fast and so high because she's with the Jarl but in fact she was almost on the top of the ranks before she was on top of him. 

 

“Here you go.” Still smiling she hands the Nord several documents. “Orders from Tullius himself and their next patrolling-routes.”

 

The wide-eyed commander just stares at her. “How?” 

 

“Silver tongue and fast arrows.” She replies coyly. 

 

“Ulfric will be more than pleased.”

 

“Speaking of which, where is the Jarl?” Sylvia looks around but can't find him. 

 

“Your tent.” Frorkmar doesn't even care to keep his voice down. Sylvia doesn't know if she should laugh at his boldness or strangle him for this disrespectful behavior. 

 

One soldier beside them chuckles lowly. She just rolls her eyes. Everyone knows about them anyway. Without another word she turns around and goes for her tent. 

 

When she passes the cover of the entrance the Jarl of Windhelm comes in sight. “What took you so long?” He says with worry in his voice. 

 

“Aw.” Sylvia replies grinning. “Did you worry about me?” 

 

Ulfric rolls his eyes. “I always do when you out there.”

 

“You do realize I'm a soldier, right?” 

 

“Yes.” He mumbles as he pulls her into his arm. “But you're more than that as well.”

 

Sylvia smiles into their kiss. “Is that so?“

 

He hums in agreement. “For example the one who warms my bed at night.”

 

“Let me strip off my armor real quick so I can warm you up.”

 

The Jarl let's his eyes wander down her skintight dark grey leather armor with a smirk. In contrast to the normal soldiers armor of his men hers complement her curves wonderfully. 

 

“Tempting.” He chuckles. “But I have to work out some strategies with Frorkmar, I'll join you when I'm done.”

 

He can't deny he enjoys the looks that follow his mistress wherever she goes, everyone can see how beautiful she is and on top everyone knows they can't have her because she belongs to him. 

 

The woman kisses the Jarl on his jaw. “Alright, business first, fun later.”

 

“I'm looking forward to it.” With a kiss on her temple he steps out of the tent. 

 

Sighing Sylvia watches him disappear in the camp. She's still angry about the betrothal but the wedding is still far away, first of all they have to win and survive the war. 

 

She even considered bearing his bastards but that would be rank suizde. Not that she could fall the ranks of aristocracy any lower but being an unmarried mother with an illegitimate child would also dishonor her family name. 

She shakes her head to get her mind clear, her mission was successful, today they all can celebrate, even if it's just a little. 

 

\--

 

Sylvia wakes up with a start. She crawls out of her lovers arms and grabs her daggers, she heard something. 

 

“What are you doing?” The Jarl asks with his voice thick of sleep. Sylvia turns her face to him and signals him to be silent with her finger on her lips. 

 

Both hear whispers from outside. 

 

“He's not here any more.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

With the agility of a cat the Jarls mistress makes her way to entrance of her tent without making any noise. 

 

Carefully she peeks out from the cover. 

 

Her eyes go wide in shock, imperial soldiers are sneaking around, their guards lay dead on the ground, they'll come for the tents. 

 

Sylvia thanks Talos for having enough sense to put her armor back on once she and Ulfric were done heating up. 

 

She slowly sinks down to her knees. “Imperials.” She mouths to her lover without making any sound. 

 

The Jarl understands and makes quick work of putting his clothes back on as well. 

 

Sylvia considers what to do, the Imperials are after Ulfric, no doubt. 

 

They are searching his tent, so they don't know his with her. She signals Ulfric to stay down. 

 

She passes the cover of the entrance and disappears in the shadows of the pitch black night. 

 

It's deadly quiet for a few moments until he hears something to his right side. Ulfric recognizes the sound of someone dying from a slit throat when he hears it. 

 

That's a quick reminder why Sylvia is one of his best spies and assassins. He smiles to himself, his stormblade deserves her title. 

 

Her head peeks back in the tent, she waves him over to her. Both pass the bodies of both his and Tullius men. Silent the Stormblade points at a hidden path through the treeline. 

 

“Quick.” She whispers. “I'll take them out.”

 

But Ulfric shakes his head, he's a Nord not a coward, He'll fight as well. 

 

Sylvia wants to argue but it's already too late, on of the stormcloaks screams “Imperials!” before he gets shot with an arrow. 

 

The Jarl draws his sword and follows the sound of clashing steel, eager to join in. Sylvia wants to scream in frustration, not only is Ulfric as stubborn as a child but also she's unable to attack unnoticed now that the Imperials know they are detected. 

 

Her armor is not meant to be worn during an attack like this, one blow of a sword and she'd lay cut down on the ground. 

 

She runs back to her tent to get her bow, passing several bodies on her way. When she arrives at the place where both sides are fighting she realizes the Stormcloaks are outnumbered. 

 

Regardless she takes position far enough to not be spotted by the enemy and shoots as many Imperials as possible but there are always coming more from the woods while Ulfrics men become less and less. 

 

Hissing she sinks down to ground when an arrow of the enemy hits her left thigh. Sylvia recovers after a moment and continues shooting arrows while being on her knees. It takes a second arrow to make her stop. 

 

On all fours she fumbles for the arrow in her abdomen. With tears in her eyes she breaks the wood in two right before the arrowhead, trying to prevent herself from bleeding out. 

 

Ulfric notices the lack of cover and searches the area for his Stormblade, only to witness a third arrow bringing her down. 

 

Sylvia almost didn't feel the impact but when her body sinks down to the floor, her vision turns black and the world around her goes silent. 

 

 

\--

 

 

“I think she's waking up.” The voice is familiar but still far in the distance. 

 

Sylvia feels so tired, weak, her eyelids feel heavy but she manages to open them just a little bit. 

 

She's moving, they are moving. Slowly her memory returns. Imperials. Wincing at the pain in her chest she forces her eyes to open up. 

 

“No, don't move, Stormblade!” She hears the voice advice. Sylvia recognizes his face, Ralof. Thank Talos, her not related brother made it that night. "We already thought we've lost you.”

 

Sylvia wants to reply but her throat is too sore. Still a bit bewildered she looks around. They are in a carriage. She doesn't recognize the others next to her and Ralof. 

 

“Why am I here with you, I'm not part of your stupid rebellion!” The man across her complains while fidgeting with his fetters. 

 

“Shut up for at least one minute, mate.” Ralof replies annoyed. His eyes go back to Sylvia. “They'll bring us to Helgen.”

 

“Ulfric?” Her throat hurts with every passing sound. 

 

“Your dog of a rebellion leader is in the carriage behind us.” 

 

The ‘mate’ gets a taste of Sylvias boot before he even sees her raising her leg. Moving hurts her like a bitch but it fills her with satisfaction. 

 

“Stop!” One of the guards next to carriage jumps up and pulls at Sylvias ponytail, dragging her out and onto the floor. 

 

“Rowdys walk!” He yells at her, but the woman is unable to stand up with her wound on her thigh. 

 

“Don't you idiot see she's injured?” But the Imperial ignores Ralof. Hissing in pain Sylvia forced herself to stand up , not willing to give the soldiers the satisfaction of winning. 

 

It takes all her willpower but she stands, still a bit wobbly but she stands. She even tests her luck by spitting in the soldiers face. 

 

A second soldier steps in between them to prevent the situation from escalating even more. “Enough of that! Back on the carriage.” He helps Sylvia up again before he turns to the other Imperial.

 

He whispers something in his ear. Both start grinning evilly before they turn on their heels. 

 

Ralof moves closer to Sylvia. “Whatever he told him, I bet it involves out heads on spikes.”

 

\--

 

The gates of Helgen open up and Sylvia feels her heart hammering against her rib cage. Tullius, only a few meter away from them. 

 

Her eyes don't leave the General when she leans closer to Ralof and whispers “They'll execute us.” 

 

The Nord curses under his breath, he had hope until now. 

 

When the carriages come to a halt the Imperials gather everyone in the courtyard. By the sigh of the executioner and the bloody wooden block the ‘mate’ tries to run in fear. 

 

If he really thinks he could make it an arrow in his neck will prove him wrong. Sylvia rolls her eyes, he was no Nord, he was a coward. 

 

“Your name?” 

 

“Sylvia Rubble-Built”

 

The soldiers frowns as he checks the several papers in his hands. “Your name's not listed.” He finally says. 

 

Of course her name is not listed, she'd be an awful spy if it were.

 

“Her head will roll like all the others.” A second voice orders. 

 

Sylvia doesn't even protest when the guards bring her to Ralof and the others, even if she'd be in the shape for fighting there would be no way to get out of Helgen alive. 

 

Her eyes don't meet with those of the others, hers are glued on the block in front of them. In the corner of her eye she can see Ulfric staring at her but she doesn't move her head. 

 

Right now she really wants to strangle him. He could have fled but instead he stands here only to be executed like the rest of his men. 

 

Sylvia bites her cheeks at the thought, she'd probably end up here anyway but he could have been save in Windhelm, planning his next moves. But no, now the rebellion will end today. Everything Sylvia and her family fought for was for nothing. 

 

Her spinning mind comes back to the courtyard when an Imperial pushes her to get her moving. But instead of walking she falls down to the ground again, unable to put weight on her left leg. 

 

“Oh, by the eight! I'm having enough of that!” Sylvia recognizes the voice, the same soldier who dragged her out of carriage.

 

He orders the executioner to kill her right there where she's laying. The man does as he's told to, leaving his spot at the block, moving towards her. 

 

Sylvia sees his axe right up in the air when a deafening thunder rolls through the air. 

 

One of the guards screams “Dragon” before its fire claims the watchtower, killing all the guards inside. 

 

Panic follows, everyone runs from one side to the other, orders are barked over the screaming of the citizens and dying. 

 

Ralof runs to Sylvias side. “Quick, I've got you!” She just nods and lets him pick her up carry her. Both are still with fetters, but Sylvia is able to sling her arms around his neck. 

 

He runs with her behind the burning rubbles of a house, carefully he lays her down. “By Talos, no!” He cries out. “Goddammit, Sylvy! Your stomach!” 

 

The woman looks down on herself when Ralof fumbles open her fetters, she's covered in blood, her own blood. She's so high on adrenaline she didn't feel her wounds open again. 

 

“You'll bleed out, Sylvy!” 

 

“Leave me!” She finally says. 

 

Ralof looks at her with a mixture of shock and disbelief in his eyes. “What? Are you insane, Together or not at all!”

 

“Don't be an idiot, I'll just slow you down! Get yourself to safety, goddamn.”

 

Her blood starts pooling around her, she's losing too much too quick. “Ralof, don't make me begging you.”

 

She opens his fetters in return. 

 

“Ralof, Sylvia!” Frorkmar comes running to them. “What are you doing, let's keep moving!” 

 

Ralof quickly puts Sylvias arm around his neck and picks her up again before she can protest.

 

Together with Frorkmar with them they make their way through the burning village. Sylvia looks up at the burning sky when she feels her body getting lighter. The deafening screams and sounds slowly are getting quieter and she can't fight her eyes closing. 

 

Silence. 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I did not forget this fic, I just had a hard time to continue due a mean block in creativity, even though I knew from the start how this story will wrap up and end. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoy it ^^

The streets seem colder than they used to. Rats are running from side to side, disappearing in holes in the walls again. Windhelm never was a gem of a city but it looks even worse now. 

 

The docks are more ruins than anything and the people look just as dead as the fields in the hold.

 

"Listener, your good old Cicero will catch a disease soon if he doesn't leave this shit hole." The assassin complains while trying not to touch anything or anyone when they cross the markets. 

 

Sylvia turns around to her companion with a frown, she pulls down her scarf that shields her face from the cold. "Watch your mouth, it was my home once." 

 

Once. It sounds so odd in Sylvias ears. The last years felt so surreal, as if she had been dreaming the whole time. But sadly this nightmare is reality. Sylvia shakes her head and covers her face again. "Come on, let's go."

 

Together they pass the streets, she leads with Cicero right behind her, grumbling and mumbling about his discomfort. It amuses her, they live in a cave in Downstar with Cicero not complaining once but Windhelm makes him shudder in disgust. 

 

Finally on the street to the palace, Sylvia feels her heart starting to hammer faster and harder against her ribcage. So many memories start to swirl around in her head but she has to push them back to the corner where they came from, she came here for a reason. She needs her mind clear and not to clouded by emotions. 

 

She turns around to her friend and takes her scarf off completely. "Cicero, once we are past the gate you stay quiet and concentrated, okay?" 

 

He nods but doesn't look too thrilled about it. Sylvia knows he hates to be shut down and most of the time she doesn't mind his babbling but in there she couldn't have it. Her task is hard enough as it is. She puts the scarf in her backpack and continues to walk to the gate. 

 

When the two guards at the palace notice the strange duo approaching they come towards them. "Stop, no one is allowed to enter the palace but the Jarls men."

 

"I'm most certain he'll make an exception for us."

 

Both soldiers look at each other and start to laugh. "And who do you think you are."

 

"The dragonborn."

 

Both guards lose their smiles immediately, once again they share a glance. 

 

"May we pass or do you wish to see a display of my voice as confirmation of my powers?" Actually Sylvia would prefer not to demonstrate her power, she doesn't want to draw more attention than necessary. 

 

One guard draws his sword. "You are allied with the Imperials!" He barks all over the courtyard. "You won't go anywhere!" 

 

Sylvia just sighs and rolls her eyes. When the guard prepares his swing she takes Ciceros hand. 

 

"TIID-KLO-UL!" 

 

The time around the two assassins slows down to an almost stop. Both round the guards and pass the gates to enter the palace. 

 

\--

 

"That's not efficient enough." Galmar complaints. "We are running low on supplies, we need a better solution."

 

Arrald Frozen-Heart just sighs in annoyance. "When you have a better idea, please let us know. Right now you are not making any suggestions, Galmar."

 

Ulfric just looks at the map. Bandits were able to infiltrate Gallows Rock and with that cut off their most important supply route. He has not enough men to fight them back nor enough supplies to tolerate their presence for a while. 

 

All of them look up when they hear Jorleif yell. "Who in Talos name are you? Guards!" Alarmed the three of them hurry back to the throne room. 

 

"Calm down, Jorleif. I just want to talk to the Jarl." a calm female voice replies. When they lay eyes on the uninvited visitors, Ulfric frowns at the sight of the odd pair. A jester and a hooded woman, what kind of joke is that? 

 

"And who do you think you are to simply invade the palace?" Galmar hisses through gritted teeth while he draws his war hammer. 

 

The woman takes one step forward and puts down her hood. "An old friend." The blonde woman looks directly at the Jarl who looks back at her in bewilderment.

 

A friend? She really looks familiar to him, light almost white hair, blue eyes. His mind goes over several names and faces when it finally hits him. But it can't be… "Sylvia?" 

 

The woman cracks a small smile. "Long time no see."

 

Ulfric doesn't know how to react or how to feel. Countless thoughts and emotions are running through his mind. 

 

He wants to storm to her but Galmar holds him back, not trusting her. "Why are you here? For the last two years you were gone, there was not one single word from you."

 

"Business.” She simply says. “Before I fulfill my destiny as the dragonborn I want to talk to your Jarl."

 

Galmar doesn’t miss her saying ‘your Jarl’. He snarls at her. "As far as we are informed the dragonborn, you as you claim to be, are working with the enemy."

 

"I don't have to justify any of my actions to anyone but the Jarl." 

 

She's still as fiercely as Ulfric remembered her. "Step back, Galmar." the Jarl orders. "I'd like to hear her out."

 

His second in command highly disagrees but obeys. "Fine, but her companion will stay here and I'll confiscate their weapons."

 

Sylvia hands over her daggers and her bow. She nods at her friend who nods back at her and gets rid of his weapons as well, silently. 

 

"Ladies first." Ulfric offers when he leads Sylvia to the war room. He notices her limp on her left leg and that she's trying to hide it. 

 

A wave of shame and regret washes over him. Not one day passes without him getting lost in memories of the night the Imperials attacked and imprisoned them. He still sees his stormblade being pierced by arrows before his eyes. Still fighting until she collapsed, hit by another arrow in her chest. 

 

He thought he lost her in this very moment. She told him to run but he refused. It was an error in judgment that got many good men killed and almost ended the rebellion. 

 

Finally in the privacy of the war room he closes the door behind them and turns to her. She looks so different, scares cover her once flawless skin, her long hair is shorter now, he remembers it to be waist long, now it barely reaches her ribs. 

 

But her eyes changed the most. Though they were steal blue, they were full of life and warmth. They bewitched him and made him fall in love. 

 

But now? He can't help but feel sad about the missing light in them, no warmth and no life. They look like empty shells, cold and repellent. 

 

Ulfric gaze wanders from her eyes down her scared lips to her throat. His heart skips a beat. A large, bad healed scar ruins her snow white skin, someone tried to cut her throat. 

 

What in the name of the Nine happened to her? 

 

He wants to hold her, to hug her to him but her distant eyes keep him at bay. Her whole prosture is distant and dismissive. 

 

She crosses her arms in front of her chest. "I assume you have many questions but I'm afraid we don't have the time to get into depth of everything, I just wanted to see you one final time before I go. In the hope of talking to you."

 

"What do you mean with final time?" 

 

"Windhelm is just a step over. Like I said I'm the dragonborn and with that responsible for stopping Alduin from destroying the world. My friend and I will leave right after our talk."

 

Ulfric can't believe what he's hearing. She just returned to him after all the time, only to leave him again? As far as he was concerned he couldn't care less about the dragon. Just a few minutes ago he and his men thought the dragonborn to be an Imperial. The dragons were their problem to solve, not his. “You… you are not planning on coming back?”

  
  
He had almost added ‘to me’, but her ice-cold stare makes him feel uncertain of ‘them’. If there is a ‘them’ at all, after all these years.

 

"I don't expect to survive the fight, so no." She sighs before she continues. "Look, I came here for a reason. To make you see reason."

 

The Jarl frowns. "Okay, wait. First of all I want to know why you left, why you become Thane of Solitude instead of returning to my side?"

 

Ulfric notices her biting her cheeks, she's trying to prevent herself from babbling something in the heat of the moment. 

 

"Short version? After Helgen I got captured again, but instead of killing me the Imperials brought me to Solitude, they didn't know who I was. After some time they trusted me and after I recovered from my injuries I stayed to spy on them."

 

"I did not received any letters from you."

 

"Because I did not sent any."

 

"Explain yourself."

 

After another sign she continues. "After I gained trust and power among the citizens, Elisifs men took interest in me. I took the chance and was able to charm them and her as well. I got one of her most trusted blades."

 

"You want to tell me you spent the last two years in her inner circle without taking actions? Without informing me?" Ulfric is as hurt as he is angry. 

 

"The risk of getting caught was too great. Especially with Tullius looming around everywhere." 

 

"It would have took one single arrow."

 

"Don't you think I didn't know that? That it didn't make me twitchy?" 

 

Ulfric starts pacing, he's so angry, he's lost for words. All the time he could barely record any progress regarding the civil war but Sylvia could have killed both his enemies in the meantime. Could have ended the war even. 

 

"Would you rather get me killed trying to assassin Elisif or Tullius?" 

 

"One live is nothing compared to the many who died and will die for the cause." 

 

Sylvia snorts but he can hear the hurt undertone. "Is that why you left me laying in Helgen?" 

 

The Jarl stops in track. Of course not. "The fire separated us! I had no chance of-" 

 

"You didn't try. You fled the second the guards were distracted. As selfish as you were, you left everyone behind."

 

Ulfric just looks at her, dumbfounded. 

 

"We saw you. You took a horse and left while we were trapped by flames." She chuckles bitterly. "It was Tullius who saved us. I fell unconscious all the time but I remember him open watchtowers for us to take underground paths to get to safety. He even let you flee, like you said, just one arrow but he focused on the people in Helgen instead."

 

Sylvia takes a deep breath and continues. "Anyway, that's not why I'm here. I'm here to ask you to stop the war. To surrender."

 

Ulfric can't believe his ears and is unable to hide his shock. "How dare you? After everything we've done and been through?" 

 

"When was the last time you were outside of Windhelms walls, Ulfric? Have you ever seen the dying on the fields, the starving people, the countless orphans? And that definitely won't get better with you as High King. Skyrim can't feed its citizens by its own nor can it protect them. We need the Imperials."

 

"You should hear yourself, your father would turn over in his grave.” The hurt in Sylvias eyes make him almost regret his outburst, but only almost. “Elisifs influence, no doubt. She must have poisoned your mind with her repulsive loyalty towards the Empire.”

  
  
“She is not loyal, nor was Torygg! Both only tolerated them because they knew Skyrim could not survive on its own.” Sylvia raises her voice with her growing frustration. “And you’d know that, if you’d talked with them in order to group a rebellion together, instead of killing our King to claim his throne with no right to!”

  
  
Ulfric is outraged by her assuming the right to yell at him, to accuse him of being driven by self-seeking motivations. “I have every right to! I am going to heal Skyrim from the all those years under the influence of the Imperials and elves! I am Sykrims rightful king!”

  
  
“Are you?” She asks in a low voice, barely over a whisper. “You are not selected by a moot, or by vote and you did not kill Torygg in a duel but in cold blood, when he turned his back to you.”

  
  
That's enough. The Jarl hisses through his gritted teeth. “You're either with me or against me.”

  
  
Sylvia knows when a battle is lost, nothing she could say can convince him to even consider to stop the rebellion, she slowly rounds him to get to the door. “I’m for Skyrim, always been.”

  
  
Ulfric feels his heart sting, he can’t believe this woman in front of him was once the one who would have gladly killed everyone who’d deny his claim to the throne, would have slit everyones throat who’d dare to badmouth him. She would have followed her family to Sovngarde if necessary to protect him, for his cause. “You’re no true Nord.”

  
  
Sylvia stops in the door to turn her head to him one final time. He can see tears in her eyes, that she’s too stubborn to let fall. 

 

“And you’re no king.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Sylvia falls to the ground with a shriek, in her haste she didn’t saw the root. Ralof storms to her side and helps her up again. She hisses in pain, her wound opened again, warm blood is running down her leg.

 

Her friend wastes no time and picks her up to carry her. He curses under his breath with her in his arms.

 

They can hear the bandits getting closer, their battle-cries echo through the woods. Sylvia clings to her friend, who’s running through the darkness of the night.

 

Ralof hides them behind a recess in rock wall, slowly and carefully putting Sylvia down. Tears are running down her face, the pain is impossible to endure. Her wound is contaminated with dirth and worse from failed tries to stop the bleeding.

 

Her friend examines her leg, trying to at least reduce the bleeding with an old cloth. “Sylvy, press it against it, as hard as you can.” She does as she is told, biting her other hand to muffle her screams.

 

Ralof peeks his head out, scanning the surroundings for enemies.  He sends a silent prayer to the Nine, when he draws the sword he found in one of Helgens watchtowers.

 

The bandits are close, too close. He turns around to Sylvia and cups her face with his free hand. “Stay down, I’ll lure them away from here.” But Sylvia shakes her head. “No! Please, don’t leave me alone!”

 

But Ralof knows he can’t protect her if they get caught. “I’ll return. I promise.” He kisses her forehead before he storms off.

 

Unable to follow him, Sylvia has to watch him disappear into the night. And she waits for him. Minutes. Hours. Until howling can be heard not to far from her. She is defenseless, with no weapons or armor to protect herself.

 

She pushes herself up, only putting weight on her good leg. Slowly she peeks her head out, it’s too dark to see but she can’t stay. Either she’ll end up as a meal for the wolves or cut down by bandits and she is not planning to die either way. 

 

The dull pain turns into piercing, making her regret her decision as soon as she is leaving the rocks behind her. But she won’t stop. Slowly but surely she stumbles her way through the woods.

 

But she comes to a halt when she hears voices behind her. There is no point of running away, she isn’t even able to actually walk.

 

“Victory or Sovngarde.” She whispers to herself before she turns around to face the men behind her. Imperials. Of course. She expects them to kill her were she stands but instead one of them comes running to her side, putting her arm around his shoulder to help her balance.

 

The others gather around her, trying to aid her wounds. “Bandits?” One asks her and she nods, wincing when they try to sit her down on a dead log.

 

“They are raiding around this area for quite some time, are you alone?”

 

Sylvia consinders not to say anything at all but they seem to be just commun soldiers. They certainly don't know who she is and where she came from. “I’ve been with two friends.” She finally says. “But we got separated when they attacked our camp.”

 

A soldier with a torch comes closer to the help the one who is trying to examine her leg. “By the eight, you need medical treatment immediately. How many times were you hit?”

 

“Thrice. Chest, abdomen and the left thigh. The first two my friends were able to close with heated up metal but my thigh just won't stop bleeding.”

 

One of the soldiers picks her up. “We’ll bring you to our camp, our healer will take care of you.”

 

 

 

… … …

 

 

 

Sylvia wakes to a wet and uncomfortable feeling, out of habit she reaches for her bad tight. And just as expected she finds the bandages to be soaked wet. As disgusted as annoyed she pulls her blacket away to get a better look. With a curse on her lips she tries to get rid of the wet cloths.

 

Alduin made sure to mark her before his life faded, her left leg is a mess. Her old scar was cut open again, along with the rest of her leg. Sylvia was not able to keep the wound clean all the time and if the fever and the nasty smell is any indicador, she must have got a infection. Again. And if she's honest with herself, she wouldn’t even be surprised if she’d lose her leg it at all.

 

“Listener, let your friend Cicero help!” The assassin leaves his spot near the cave entrance when he notices her doing. Together they replace the soaked wet cloths with new ones and Sylvia drinks up two health-portion to dull the pain again.

 

“Go to sleep, Cicero. It's my turn to keep watch, anyway.” She tries to stand up but the piercing pain forces her to sit down again.

 

“Cicero is just fine. If his Listeners wants to continue the journey, he’ll pack up their things.”

 

Sylvia doesn't’ wish to continue anything, but they have to. “Fine, can you help me up, please?”

 

 

 

… … …

 

 

 

“What’s your name, girl?”

 

Girl? Sylvia can't remember the last time she was called like that. “Sylvia, my lord.”

 

Tullius narrows his eyes on her. He doesn’t know why, but the face of the young woman seems familiar. “And your last name, your house?”

 

“I don’t have a house, my lord.” Sylvia starts to feel anxious, it’s been weeks since Helgen, Tullius doesn’t remember her, does he?

 

But the General doesn't push it further, for now. “Very well. You said bandits attacked your camp?”

 

“Yes. We lost each other on the run. Your men found me when I tried to get away on my own.”

 

The General rounds his desk to get a better look at her. Sylvia grabs her crutch, it would be a weak weapon but could buy her time at least.

 

He points at her leg. “How exactly did that happen?”

 

By the nine, is that a hearing?  “An ambush while we were hunting. Then my friends carried me to safety. They cauterized my chest and abdomen but somehow my thigh didn’t close up, it’s been infected according to the healer in Falkreath, and before my friends could figure it out the attackers found us again.”

 

Tullius just looks at her, deep in thoughts, rubbing his chin. Finally he moves to sit down at his desk again. “You see, we wouldn't just bring every girl to Solitude my men happen to find in the woods.”

 

Sylvia doesn’t like where this is going. The General opens his desk to show her a necklace. Her necklace. “I am most certain you are aware of the ban to worship Talos.” He asks while he fumbles with the pendant made of gold. “Yet you still openly show veneration.”

 

The young woman tries to tear the jewelry out of his grasp but Tullius reacts fast enough to put it back into the drawer. “May you tell me the story how it found its way to you and why you kept it?”

 

“That's a gift from my mother for my twentieth birthday, shortly before she went to Sovngarde.” She hisses through gritted teeth. “And you will return it to me!”

 

“You are in no position to demand anything. I’m sorry for your loss but this necklaces will be destroyed, as it is forbidden worshipping. You should consider yourself lucky for not being punished for its possession.”

 

Sylvia bites her cheeks to keep herself silent.

 

“You are allowed to stay in Solitude for as long as you need to recover from the incident. But know that we’ll keep an eye on you.” The General calls one of his men into the office and orders him to bring Sylvia to The Winking Skeever.

 

When both are in the door he speaks up again. “Oh, and Sylvia? I didn’t miss the initials on the pendant. I will come and see you myself if we find connections that are more disconcerting than the worship of a banned God.”

 

 

… … …

 

 

 

Sylvia collapses on her cot. Exhausted would be an understatement, after her and Ciceros return to Downstar she had a hard time not to fall from their horse. Babette applied countless ointments on her wounds and ordered a strict bed rest for the next weeks if not months.

 

The Nord couldn’t care less. Her leg feels like dead weight and if the infection won’t get any better soon it will turn into it. Nazir and the little vampire want to celebrate her return tomorrow, her survival but Sylvia can’t help but cry at the thought.

 

She buries her face in her pillow to muffle the sound. She didn’t just expect to die, she wished for it.

 

Ever since the beast made an appearance, her life turned into a nightmare. Her life got miserable after her parents died and turned into hell when her brother fell, too. And when she learned about Ulfrics and Frejas betrothal she completely lost it.

 

Her father always used to say “Victory or Sovngarde.” These three words where the only thing keeping her from running a knife through her, in nights when her mind was unable to rest. Only true Nords were granted with a place in the Hall of Valor, and if suffering through all these tests of the Nine force upon her, mean to be able to reunite with her family, she’d suffer without one single complain.

 

But there's just so much a human can take, can endure until it’s breaks one’s mind. All Sylvia wants, is to finally see her family again. To leave the shards she calls her life behind. But she has one last thing to do, one final battle to fight, before she can rest.

 

She tries to compose herself when she slowly sits up. While holding her amulet of Talos she prays to the Gods to give her the strength to carry her last burden, to take her to her family once she shed her blood for the sake of a better future for her Skyrim, for giving meaning to her familys sacrifices.

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

All of Skyrims people celebrate the defeat of the World Eater, even the cold Windhelm raised its colours as soon as the news reached the city.

 

The citizens drown their remaining sorrows and worries in mead and ale for several days straight. Even the Stormcloaks were allowed to take a break.

 

Ulfric stands on his balcony and watches the festivities in the streets beneath him. He swings the liquid in his tankard when he spotes his fiance among the crowd. The young woman doesn’t even care to hide her affections towards her lover, who is walking beside her.

 

Not that Ulfric cares, either. Neither did he ever expect her to stay untouched for him, nor did he ever wish to touch her at all. But the open display of disrespect towards him and their engagement is what's anger him.

 

He empties his tankard and watches the horizon. Sun is about to set, coloring the sky in bright shades of orange and red. He remembers the good times. When he saw Sylvia passing the streets, not Freya.

 

Times when he watched her from the distance, before they officially met. She was always besides her brother, what was his Name, Jesper?

 

The Jarl has to chuckle, she was always so shy. When he overlooked the training grounds of the Stormcloaks near the docks, her cheeks would always turn the lovelies shades of pink, when their eyes met.

 

But over the time she grew more confident. Often times she would not just look away but hold Ulfrics glance. Smile at him even.

 

It's been so long, it feels like an eternity. Ulfric tosses his tankard from the balustrade. Those times are over and will never return. With a grumble he enters his room again and slams the doors shut behind him.

 

 

 

… … …

 

 

 

Sylvia holds her breath, her eyes are glued to the dummy on the other side of the training grounds. After a few moments she lets the arrow hit its desired destination. Right in the chest.

 

She jumps at the sound of applause right next to her. Her eyes go wide when she recognizes the men next to her being the Jarl and his second in command. “Not bad for a young lady.”

 

“T-Thank you, my lord.”

 

Ulfric chuckles before he corrects her. “I’m the Jarl, not a lord.”

 

Sylvia bites her lip in embarrassment and she can feel her cheeks blushing. “Of course, my Jarl. My apologies.”

 

“You are forgiven. Sylvia Rubble-Build, if I remember correctly?”

 

The young woman is nervous, has she done something wrong? Why would the Jarl of Windhelm himself bother to learn her name, to speak with her even?

 

“Y-yes. That’s my name.”

 

“Galmar speaks very highly of you. I’ve been told you are the most promising trainee and in fact the best archer.”

 

Sylvias face could compete with a beet. She doesn't know what to say. “Thank you.” is all her blank mind can manage.

 

Ulfric has to smile. She is trying to look anywhere but him, endearing. “We are planning a mission and I’d like to send you with my men. Your skill with the bow will be of great value.”

 

Her blue eyes suddenly beam at him. “Im honored.”

 

“Good, Galmar will lead you to the war room and work out the plans with you and the others. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, before you depart.”

 

 

 

… … …

 

 

 

  
Ulfric pours himself another glass of wine. It’s not even midday but he doesn’t care. Galmar and Arrald have been fighting the whole morning, they still are. But the Jarl stopped listening, ever since Sylvia returned from Solitrary his mind doesn’t seem to focus on anything other than the talk they had.

 

He still can’t wrap his head around the things she said. And how miserable she looked, was she tortured there? The scare on her throat haunts him, she must have been through so much.

 

“... right, my Jarl?”

 

Ulfric looks up from his once again empty glass. “Hm? Excuse me, I was lost in thoughts, what were you saying?”

 

“Rubble-Build.” Garlmar starts again. “According to several guards of the Pale, she is hiding there somewhere. She was seen near Downstar on many occasions, always trying not to be inconspicuous. Are we planning to punish her for treason?

 

Ulfrics voice drops ominously “No.”

  
Intimidated by Ulfrics sudden change of mood, Arrald tries to change the subject.  “Back to Whiterun. How many men you said we can send, Galmar?”

 

 

\--

 

 

 

Babette watches Sylvia attentively, she is finally doing progress. The infection is gone and the leg is almost completely healed. “See? Your muscles are getting stronger. I’d say a full recovery is on the horizon.”

 

Sylvia kicks the chair in front of her across the hall. “Nothing is on the horizon! I walk like an old hag, my leg looks worse than Helgens ruins and the pain is as present es ever!”

 

“Well, maybe hurting the furniture isn’t the smartest idea, then.” Nazir comments sarcastically as he picks the chair up.

 

“I’m working on new recipes for your pain, Sylvia. But you have to be grateful for the small things, such as not relaying on the crutches anymore.”

 

But Sylvia isn’t listening, she stumbles her way past her friends to get back to her room. It's the first time for days that she left it and by the nine, she regrets it.

 

When the doors of the Listeners bedroom can be heard slammed, the vampire sits down next to Nazir with a sight. “She’s getting worse. Mentally. I really worry about her.”

 

Nazir, who's looking for a bottle of alcohol on the table just shrugges his shoulders. “Yeah. You can say the same for our bar.”

 

The girl hits him on his arm. “You’re an asshole. She needs help, something to cheer her up. Her leg is getting better but she doesn't seem to even see the huge progress that she's making.”

 

Nazir careses his arm. For a ‘child’ she sure knows how to hit. “Because she simply can't see it, Sylvia is constantly in pain. If I'd be in her condition, I would probably rampage, too. Give her time, Babette. Find her a portion and she’ll be fine.”

 

But Babette knows better, no matter how many hours she would spend in her lab, there simply is no portion for a broken heart.

 

 

 

… … …

 

 

 

 

Sylvia fumbles with her amulet under her dress. She is thankful for being allowed to take shelter in the Temple of the Divines, but the empty alcove in the middle of the shrines makes her angry.

 

It's a constant reminder of why she is still here and not at home. She sends a payer to Talos, asking him for the strength she needs to endure this masquerade, to forgive her for hiding her true believes while staying on the enemies ground.

 

She is asking the Nine to guide her and protect her during her stay. To watch over her and her loved ones, to ease the pain from being seperated from her love. To help her to accomplish her goals soon, so she can return to him.

 

She jumps in surprise when a voice next to her starts to speak. “It’s encouraging to witness a young woman like you being so spiritual.” Tullius looks directly at Sylvia. “Many seem to forsake the Gods in hard times like these.”

 

Sylvia lets go off her amulet of Talos and folds her hands in her lap. “I did not expect to meet you here, my lord.”

 

“Neither did I.” He replies as he takes the seat next to Sylvia. “How long have you been here, in Solitude I mean?”

 

“About 19 months, my lord.”

 

The General turns his head to the shrines. “So long. Huh. You know, I couldn’t help but wonder why your face seems so familiar to me.”

 

Sylvias heart starts racing.

 

“It took me quite a while to figure it out.” The man continues. “You are the girl from Helgen, the one unable to walk to the executioner.”

 

The steel-blue eyes of the young Nord go wide in shock. She doesn’t know how to response, but ever so slowly she reaches for her dagger that's hidden in her dress.

 

“You won’t accomplish anything by stabbing me here and now, Sylvia. It won’t help you, nor would it help the rebellion of yours.”

 

Trapped. A feeling the young Nord just knows too well. “For how long do you know about me?”

 

“A long time by now. Shortly after you made your first appearance here, when soldiers of the Falkreath outpost brought you here.”

 

But how much does the General know exactly, surely he wouldn’t let Sylvia live, be close to the High Queen even if he knew about her being Ulfrics mistress.

 

Tullius men enter the Temple, gathering around them. “You are under arrest.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
